Felix Dies Natalis
by silver-thunder-green-lighting
Summary: Summary: Harry reaches a milestone he never thought he'd live to see: his eighteenth birthday. Title is Latin for, "Happy Birthday," written in honor of Harry, Queen Jo and the late Richard Griffiths' birthdays.


Felix Dies Natalis

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Summary: Harry reaches a milestone he never thought he'd live to see. Title is Latin for, "Happy Birthday."

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The sun hung a handsbreadth above the horizon. Fat and yellow, it washed the land in deep colors and shadows, brighter than usual after the rain that had fallen that afternoon. On the roof of a crooked house in the south of England two young men sat. A pair of half-empty bottles sat between them, wedged between several tiles to keep gravity from claiming them for its own. They sat in silence, for there were no words suitable to express their current well of emotions.

It had been a good day, despite the downpour, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had invited Luna and the rest of Harry's former dorm mates to the small celebration, as well as the rest of their brood and Fleur, but there was no denying that a sense of emptiness had filled the air despite the loud festivities: it was hard to ignore the absence of chaos the twins had once carried with them wherever they went. Once the guests had left Harry had fled to the roof to try and escape the dark pall and Ron had followed not long after for much the same reason. It didn't work very well, and the pair felt the pain even more acutely in the silence. Still, neither could bring themselves to move just yet. The sun was nearing the horizon before the black haired man made to speak.

"I never thought I'd live to see this day," said Harry in quite bemusement. The flame haired man jerked his head in acknowledgement.

"When I was younger, I didn't let myself think of the future. Didn't think I'd have much of one really. A desk job at a company like my uncle's if i was lucky. Then Hagrid came... And almost at the same time I found out about Voldemort." No shudder came from the taller man. There was no sense in fearing the name of a man defeated in front of his own eyes.

"It was less than a year later when we _met_." his mouth twisted with dark humor. "Then I figured that if he was still around and trying to kill me, then maybe if I went I could take him with me. There are worse things to die for." His voice had descended to a whisper. "I did die for it. And yet here I am." He spread his arms to encompass himself and his surroundings. He laughed without humor, only disbelief.

"Isn't it just insane, everything that happened and I actually made it this far," said Harry with wonder. He sipped at his butter beer and said no more. For several minutes the only sound was the chirping of crickets, the creaking of the wood beneath them and the distant clang of colliding pots and pans as Mrs. Weasley cleaned up several floors below. Ron's voice sounded out rustily,

"When Hagrid came out of the forest, I..." Ron cleared his throat roughly.

"I'm glad you're here, mate," he said thickly. A small, genuine smile graced Harry's face for only the third time that day. He reached over and briefly clapped his best friend on the shoulder.

"I'm glad you're here too."

A bit of their darkness melted away in the light of the dying sun. They watched it as it sank below the horizon with increasing speed, leeching the color from the land as it went. The stars appeared overhead one by one and the half moon faded into view, it's wan light just bright enough to see by. It was well past midnight before Ginny's voice called softly from the attic window beneath them and brought them out of their thoughts and back to reality. They eased themselves over the eaves and through the open window and all three descended to Ron's room in numb tranquility where Hermione waited for them. Their soft good nights were quickly completed and it was not long at all until the women left and the men slid between their sheets, falling into their dreams. The night was still and bright, and for now, all was well.

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Two empty bottles sat abandoned on the rooftop, a reminder of that night of healing until a storm blew the weather beaten receptacles away many years later.

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Well, a little late for Harry's actual birthday, but here this is none-the-less. Happy late birthday to Harry, Queen Jo and the late Richard Griffiths. If you've made it this far, please review. Even if it's only a, "I don't know what to say but I liked it/hated it because blah," do it. Reviews are IMMENSELY helpful to us humble authors. Also, please tell me if you find any spelling errors or poorly constructed sentences: I typed this on my iPod because my laptop's in need of repairs and unavailable for writing, and it's kind of hard to spot those things in this format. Thanks for reading!

Silver


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